His Master's Voice #1 (The Dollhouse Society) Read online

  “Kinbaku?”

  “Yes, that. And other stuff. Trickier stuff.”

  Again, Sir’s face showed no insult. If anything, he looked impressed that I had looked so deeply into this. “Though quite lovely, I don’t do Kinbaku—thought we may experience the beauty of it together with my friend Alexander, who is a master. My own interests lie elsewhere.”

  Now, it was my turn to sit forward. “What are you interests? I mean…what do you specialize in?”

  Sir never flinched. “I’m interested in objectification and humiliation of my courtier.”

  I won’t lie. His words frightened me a little. I’d read about those things, but had skipped over them among the web pages I had read because they seemed a little…extreme. I wasn’t sure they were things I would like.

  He must have sensed my hesitation because he said, “Does objectification frighten you, Timothy? Be honest.”

  “Maybe a little.” I fiddled with my nice linen napkin, folding and re-folding it in my lap. “I mean…I read a little bit about pony play. Is that what you mean?”

  “That and more. It’s…greater than boys prancing about like horses.”

  Silence pressed in between them. And a little bit of uncertainty. He was so meltingly sexy sitting there. His power and restraint was enough to give me heart palpitations…but he also sounded edgier than what I had expected.

  “I won’t lie,” he explained, his heavy on mine. “I will push your limits, Timothy. I will take you places you’ve never expected to be. However, as a gentleman, it’s my duty to stretch your boundaries and train you to be a superb courtier. That is my goal. However, there must also be trust between us. There must be more. If you find that unappealing and would prefer a more casual D/s relationship, then I am perhaps not the Master for you…” He left it at that.

  He’s young, my mind whispered. Of course he’s going to be edgy and dangerous. He has a lot to prove to the Society.

  Honestly, I found his words more thrilling than terrifying. We were both young and untried. I wondered if it was possible for both of us to grow together through this. I found the idea appealing. Well, one thing I knew for certain: Beyond the shadow of a doubt, I was made for this lifestyle. The more I learned about it, the more I wanted to know. I felt my future was intrinsically tied up in this type of training.

  I wanted to be a courtier. I wanted to be his courtier.

  “You’ve decided,” Sir said, reading me so easily it was embarrassing.

  “Yes,” I admitted. “I want this the way I want my music. I want to be your courtier. I trust you.”

  He nodded. “Let’s test your aptitude for the lifestyle.”

  The server appeared with our platters. Sir stopped her there and gave her some very strange orders. “I would like you to take one of these back to the kitchen and fetch me a bowl.”

  The server, looking confused, set one of the platters down in front of Sir, then disappeared with the other. I waited, my heart thumping with anticipation. A few minutes later, she returned with an empty crystal salad bowl.

  “Thank you,” Sir said. “I do not wish to be disturbed again.”

  She looked even more confused but nodded and quickly obeyed, disappearing without a trace.

  Sir stared at me with those intense grey eyes. While we had spoken of the details of our relationship, he had seemed warm and approachable. But now his cold, stoic demeanor was back. His status as Master. “I want you to heel at my side, my pretty pet.”

  I hadn’t expected that. I thought we would be alone when we…did anything. Scened, or whatever it was the Dollhouse Society called it. I glanced around the crowded dining room, acutely aware of the other couple at the other tables sitting only a few mere feet away.

  “Rule Number One,” Sir said in a sibilant hiss that made the little hairs on the backs of my hands stand on end. “When your gentleman gives you a direct order, you obey it without question—and with no concern for your surroundings.”

  “Yes…Sir.” My body recoiled at his command even though I knew he was testing me and I knew I didn’t want to fail. At the same time, a part of me found his order delightfully taboo. Exciting. When he started looking annoyed, I got up, set the napkin aside that I had been scrunching in my hands compulsive, and moved to stand beside him. I tried to pretend no one was watching as I assumed the heel position on the carpeted floor beside Sir’s chair.

  My face flushed with heat and I clenched my eyes shut. I knew they were looking. It was all I could do to hold my position while several couples started muttering things under their breath. I even caught a few snatches of their conversation and wanted to put my hands over my ears to block out their words.

  “Good boy,” Sir said and put his hand over my head, stroking my hair slowly and sensually in a way that put shivers down my back. “Rule Number Two: A good courtier makes himself physically available to his gentleman at all times.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I think, in future, I should prefer that you address me as Master.”

  Another shock. I couldn’t imagine calling him Master in front of everyday people. Maybe in front of people I even knew.

  “Rule Number Three: A good courtier puts the needs of his Master above his own. His Master’s word is law. His Master’s desires are his own.”

  “Y-yes,” I said. I knew it was a test. And then added: “Master.”

  His touch grew warm and heavy. “I like the sound of that on your pretty lips. Open your eyes. I want you to watch this.”

  I opened my eyes—reluctantly. Several couples were still gawking at me, but many others had gone back to their meal. After a few more minutes, the remaining ones turned back to their plates and stopped looking. I couldn’t believe they had gotten used to it and were even bored of the show.

  “Humans are insipid creatures,” Master said almost like he wasn’t one of them. “They are easily distracted, and despite the newness of rules being broken and boundaries being bent, nothing is interesting for very long. They are the center of their own universes. No matter what I ask of you, I guarantee you that they will grow weary of watching it soon enough.”

  “Yes, Master,” I said, surprised and a little delighted, by this revelation. My love and admiration for the man in the chair beside me grew exponentially.

  I watched all of them, looking for cracks in their demeanor, while Master went about the task of cutting up the rare steak and steamed vegetables on his plate into tiny pieces. Occasionally, someone looked over. As if sensing they were looking, Master glanced up and they quickly turned their eyes back to their plate. They were interested, of course, but proper etiquette dictated that they not be the one to mention it. As a result, no one said a word.

  “Eat now,” Master said, offering me a forkful of steak.

  I leaned forward and nibbled the bite of steak off his fork. It was delicious and the juices ran down my chin. The moment I tasted it, my stomach growled for more. Master fed me a bite of the steamed vegetables off his fork before setting the plate, full of cut-up meat and veggies, on the floor in front of me. “Eat.”

  I looked at it. I wasn’t sure I could—even with everyone avoiding eye contact with us now. But then my stomach growled again, reminding me that I had had nothing but a Pop-Tart for breakfast that morning. I started reaching for a piece of meat on the plate, but Master said in a voice as sharp as a slap, “No.”

  My hand stopped midway.

  “Eat it the way your Master wants you to eat it—no hands. Off the plate. And put your ass in the air while you do it. Assume a pleasing position. I want to watch you.”

  Master’s voice was chillingly cold and demanding. I could tell there was no room for negotiations with him. All or nothing. He was the commanding force in my life now, and I had to ask myself if I really wanted this. The answer was glaringly obvious—I did. I wanted it enough to endure this humiliation. And more, if he demanded it of me.

  I was both embarrassed and thrilled to be doing something lik
e this in front of all of these posh, fancy people. It was like he was marking me, telling everyone I was his pet. His courtier. I stayed kneeling but stretched my lower half toward the plate, trying to assume an S-shape that I felt would be pleasing to see. Some of my hair fell forward, but not far enough to get into my plate, which I was thankful for. I took the first bite of meat off the plate with my teeth, chewing carefully before swallowing the tiny morsel.

  “Very good,” Master said. “Continue.”

  My Master sat with his legs crossed and the fancy dining room chair turned very slightly in my direction, his white linen napkin in his lap. He watched intently while I took a piece of steamed carrot in my teeth and followed suit, trying to be graceful and pleasing while I chewed and swallowed the food.

  His expression remained neutral, impossible to read, though I noted that he’d placed the heavy napkin strategically across his lap. I hoped that was a good sign that he found me pleasing to watch. He said very little, except, at one point, “Eyes on your plate. Do not roll your eyes to watch me, pet.”

  I dutifully obeyed, finishing my whole plate, bite after bite. He didn’t ask me to lick it clean of juices, but I did that, too. By then, I no longer cared what the others were saying about me. I only wanted to please him, my Master.

  In that moment, he was my whole world.

  Master shifted constantly, uncomfortably, while my tongue scraped across the plate, licking up the last of the steak’s bloody juices. The sound echoed in my ears, raspy—and, I hoped—sexy. The fact that I could do that to him, throw him off balance, was very empowering, and I felt a surge of pride.

  “Enough of that.” Sounding angry, he picked up my empty plate and placed it on the table. Then he placed the crystal bowl on the floor and filled it with the sparkling water from my glass. “Drink.”

  I didn’t need to be told how to do it this time. I lowered my lips and chin into the fizzy water and started lapping up the water, trying to be graceful about it. I went slowly, trying to exaggerate my gestures and small movements while keeping my body in what I hoped was a pleasing curve, my ass as high in the air as I could manage. I even lowered my front half farther, rested my elbows on the floor, and canted my head slightly to one side so my hair didn’t obscure my profile while I lapped noisily at the water.

  His expression stayed stoic but he whispered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a German expletive. Throwing aside the napkin, he stood up faster than I think even he had intended to and said, “Up. Now!”

  I wasn’t exactly graceful as I struggled from my weird position on the floor to my feet, but I did the best I could. He didn’t seem to notice—or care. He grabbed me by the ass and pulled me tight against his lovely business suit. His grip didn’t hurt, but it was as strong as steel, leaving no doubts in my mind that he wanted me. That I was his, and he had no intention of letting me go.

  He looked down at me with such a feral hunger I could feel it fluttering in the air between us, pressing against me. His eyes, so pale, made his pupils stand out in a way both beautiful and eerie, like the eyes of a Siberian Husky. I was hypnotized by the sight of them. His other hand went to the back of my head and cupped it, holding me firmly in place while he lunged at me with a growl so fierce it startled me. His mouth found mine, searing it with feral kiss that that left me breathless. I felt the scruff of his chin as he savaged me with his mouth, the wild, animal-like nature of his hunger, and my legs weakened beneath me. I would have fallen had he not been half-supporting me.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered between kisses. “You can’t imagine all the things I want to do to you right now.” He breathed harshly into me, into my very mouth with a passionate gasp. “I want to fuck you like a slut…like a god.”

  His words made me blush all over. I couldn’t believe he found me this desirable—not me with my ragged hair and facial piercings and black nail polish. “Yes, Master,” I panted in return, though what I wanted to say was, Yes, Master, I can. Take me…take me now…

  “I want to put you over the back of this chair and have my way with you right here in front of all of these foolish people. Make that lovely boy cunny of yours mine for everyone to see and know.” He smirked against my lips, his raw, lustful voice coming in ragged gasps. His voice was so low it sounded demonically dangerous, and his eyes were wild and narrow, seething with a lust that left no doubt in my mind that, despite being young, he was most certainly an alpha predator used to getting what he wanted.

  I trembled at his words, at the terrifying thrill of being in his arms. His iron hold on me left me no room to protest while he dragged me across the dining room. All heads turned as we made our way toward the exit, and I heard someone whisper the word faggots under his breath. Master deftly knocked his wine glass into his lab, which made him jump up, screaming like a little schoolgirl.

  I was giggling as he steered me out the door and we found ourselves standing in front of the establishment, near an old-fashioned streetlamp and in full sight of the street. He turned as if we were ballroom dancing, and then he had me up against the cold bricks of the bistro while cars and cabs roared by on the street less than twenty feet away. The time for giggling was over.

  The chill of the night, and the wild scent of the predator holding me against the bricks, was too much. “Oh, Master…” I gasped, my voice virtually breaking with longing.

  His big hand completely spanned my throat as he held me still and fingered my collar. “I should take you now. In view of the whole city. Fill you to overflowing with my seed…”

  Oh, god…

  I turned my head, enjoying the pressure of his hand. “You could…but I’d fight you,” I heard myself say, though the words and my voice seemed distant and alien, like they belonged to someone else. Never in my life had I ever had the courage to speak this way—or to express my fantasies this wantonly. “You should know—I can be a brat. I won’t make this easy for you.”

  “I can only hope,” he growled. He was as hard as iron against me, growing harder by the moment while the words of my personal fantasy spooled out into the crisp night between us. “But fighting can be quite…stimulating. And I warn you, pet: It won’t save you. I mean to have you. And soon…”

  “And if I run?”

  “If you run, I’ll hunt you down. I’ll have you one way or another, even if I have to hold you down and force my way deep inside your body.”

  “Yes,” I said in response as he pressed against me, his knee forcing my legs apart.

  He held against the wall with the force of his body alone. His breath hissed across my cheek as he spoke. “I mean to take that precious boy hole despite all your protests. It belongs to me. You belong to me.”

  How I trembled at his words. Despite our slutty, surreal talk, the violence of it, I had never felt safer in my life than I felt right now with him. I had never been so turned on, my cock and balls aching in a way that made me want to cry for release—from him. My heart slammed about my ribs like a windblown burn. “Yes, Master. Whatever you want. Wherever you want it. I’m yours. I will always be yours.”

  He held me immobile against the wall, biting hungry kisses at my open mouth and down my throat. His kisses hurt. His teeth hurt. It was like being kissed by a wolf. He ran his open mouth down the column of my throat, turned his head, and gave my neck a swift, harsh bite so I cried out and nearly crumbled as I came embarrassingly quickly in my jeans—thankful that he couldn’t tell. I placed my hands upon his chest in an effort to balance myself, and it was then I detected the small, telltale, hard nubs of the rings piercing his nipples under his pressed and proper corporate white button-down shirt. No wonder we fit together so well. Christ, he was like a wet dream come true…one made just for me…

  Using only the wall to brace me, Master ran his big, learned hands down the curve of my hips, his fingers digging deep into the flesh with possessive fierceness. “Undo me,” he ordered, his voice little more than a low growl. I remembered what he h
ad said about obeying. I fumbled with his belt and trousers, undoing them clumsily in my haste.

  He wore no underwear and his cock slapped thick and wet and ready against the front of my body. With a grunt that was all male, he ground his pelvis against me, humping me hard and fast against the wall so I could feel the incredible, rippling strength of his abs and rock-hard cock. Full aroused, he was huge, the biggest I had ever seen, and I knew he wanted me to know what he had for me. The idea that he wanted to shove that enormous, princely cock inside me made me shudder with a combination of terror and anticipation.

  He placed a series of sharp, nibbling kisses along my cheek and neck. I moaned, breathing in his hot, loamy maleness, and my body moved automatically for him. I spread my legs wider so he could rub his hard-on against me like a dog in heat—between my legs and up tight against my balls and along the insides of my thighs. Grunting his release, he finally came hot and sticky between my legs, bathing my jeans down to the skin and marking me as his.

  “Oh, my pet…”

  I looked up into the beautiful plains of his face, his dark, seething eyes.

  “Soon,” he said, a promise that hung in the air between us like our pluming breaths mingling in the dark. “Soon you will be all mine, pet.”

  * * *

  Look for

  HIS MASTER’S VOICE, PART 2

  Coming Soon!

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  About the Author

  Jay Ellison lives in the big city with his partner and several rescue dogs. He writes m/m romantic erotica. To see all of the Courtesan Press titles, visit http://courtesanpress.wordpress.com.

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